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I’d noticed a door on one of his room’s walls, but when I tried to open it, it was locked. I assume this door leads to the attached suite, but unbreakable locks? Is there a substance that is impervious to a vampire’s strength? Or maybe…
A witch spelled the locks. That has to be it. Perhaps Tamelen makes house calls. She’s the only witch I know of who Franklin and the other vampires would allow into their home.
Our food arrives, and Steph and I eat in silence as she absorbs this new information and weighs her options. Halfway through her meal, Steph excuses herself to use the restroom. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I turn to Jesse.
“Is it really safe for her there? The vampires will know she’s a witch. They could tell her what she is. Or torture her for information, thinking she knows something about the attack on your dad. Or they could just kill her on the spot.”
“Eden,” he says, covering my hand with his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t have invited her if I wasn’t sure I could keep her safe. And she hasn’t even decided, yet. She may still choose the hotel option.”
“I’ve decided,” Steph says, startling me as she slides back into the booth. “I want to stay with you. I didn’t come all this way to twiddle my thumbs by myself in some hotel room.”
I nod and smile, hoping my trepidation isn’t visible. Steph grins back at me, then stabs a chunk of chicken with her fork before popping it into her mouth. Jesse digs his phone from his pocket and shoots off a series of text messages, then tucks it away.
“The staff is preparing the room for you now. After you two finish eating, we can do a little sightseeing before heading back to the manor.”
“Ooh, the manor. Sounds posh,” Steph teases.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I say, forcing myself to relax.
To trust Jesse to keep my best friend safe.
After Jesse pays the bill, we head out into the warm California sunshine. Steph gushes over the sights she’s seen in various movies, and I split my attention between her and Jesse, who seems ever on alert. He still has a job to do, and I’m sure the scent of Steph’s bound magic is clouding his senses and making it difficult to scent out any other sources.
“Ooh, let’s go in here,” I say, pointing to a souvenir shop with t-shirts displayed in the windows. I turn to Jesse. “Steph and I will be okay if you want to stay out here.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but I give him a pointed look and quietly sniff the air. Nodding, he pulls the door open for us. I see him inhale deeply, then he looks back at me and nods. It’s safe. No witches or vampires inside.
I follow Steph into the store, and only then does it dawn on me that Jesse’s little sniff-test isn’t exactly foolproof. There could be a whole coven in here, and if they’re using magic to mask their––well––magic, he’d never know.
“Oh, I like this one. Don’t you?” Steph asks, holding a bright yellow shirt with the words “I love L.A.” splashed across the front.
“You hate yellow,” I say, tilting my head to study the color next to her complexion. “You always say it makes you look like death.”
“Ugh, you’re right,” she says, hanging the shirt back on the rack. “I just thought it was cute. Maybe I should try a red one.”
“Blue’s your color,” I say softly, my skin prickling as I remember her words on the phone yesterday.
“It is,” she says slowly, locking gazes with me. “But didn’t you buy me a blue one already?”
“I did,” I say nodding.
“Exactly,” she says, her impish grin returning. “I have a blue one, so I need a different color.”
“Of course,” I say, shaking off the icky feeling crawling under my skin.
I’m being fucking paranoid, but with everything going on with Jesse’s family and seeing not-Steph yesterday, only to have the real Steph appear today, who could blame me? But still, Steph gravitating toward a yellow shirt when she usually fake-vomits over the color is weird.
“You know,” I say slowly, keeping my eyes on her as she idly thumbs through a rack of tank tops, “I saw a woman down here yesterday that looked like you.”
“Really?” she says, pulling out a red top with the Hollywood sign printed on it. “What do you think of this one?”
“It’s cute,” I say. “Steph, she looked exactly like you. Like she could be your twin, or something.”
“That’s crazy,” she says, looking over at me with a wide smile. “You should’ve taken a picture with her to send to me.”
“I followed her into a store, and she disappeared.”
“Weird,” she says with a shrug. “Ooh, keychains. I need to get one for Aunt Bernadette.”
